Much Ado about Brienne and Jaime
by Erlkonig
Summary: Jaime's quick wit has deserted him, leaving him at a loss for words. Brienne is as formal as ever. Can Tyrion and Podrick scheme to get them together? Based on Shakespeare's Much Ado. Post S8E3. I don't have an ending in mind but I will try to put out 500 words a day until the story is finished! (Jun 14 - This is back on!)
1. The Scheme

Tyrion watched Jaime's retreating back and sighed. His poor, dense brother was all dashing confidence on the battlefield, but today he was struggling to string a simple sentence together. When they had first reunited at Winterfell, his eyebrows had risen whenever Jaime scrambled off to make idle conversation with Brienne. Now he didn't bother to hope.

"You want me to insult you?"

"I came to Winterfell because. . . I'd be honored to serve under your command."

And a minute ago, when he had strode purposely over to intercept her in the hall. "Ser Jaime," she had greeted him with a curt nod, and only then did he realize he had nothing to say.

"You fight good," he had said after a long pause, feeling very foolish.

"Thank you. As do you." Brienne's reply was immediate and crisp, and her expression puzzled. Just as quickly, she was on her way with, cloak trailing behind her.

"I've never known you to be at a loss for words," Tyrion sidled up to his brother and gave him a knowing look. "She's quite a sight in battle, isn't she? She would make a fine sparring partner for you."

"What? It's not like that." Jaime stormed away.

Tyrion sighed and took a swig of mead. He had a lot of work to do.

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Tyrion strode onto the field as Podrick was packing up the training swords. "Come walk with me," he called out. He gave Podrick a conspiratorial wink and lowered his voice. "I have a mission for you, and you're the only one who can carry it out."

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That night, Tyrion found Jaime staring into the fire, frowning in thought. "Brother, if I may have a word in private. I found something that may interest you. It's best you read it alone."

They entered Jaime's room. Tyrion pulled a crumpled scroll from his pocked and tossed it onto the desk. "Ser Brienne dropped this on her way to practice. I wouldn't have looked except that I saw your name." Jaime leaned closer and read the scroll.

_Another day of torment passes! I can barely compose myself when Ser Jaime looks at me with his beautiful eyes. I wish I could tell him how I long for him at night. What would he say? He must not know. I must hurry away, or my true feelings might be revealed!_

"How odd. I did not expect her handwriting to look like that," said Jaime.

Tyrion fidgeted and cleared his throat. "Don't you see what this means?"

A slow smile spread across Jaime's face. "She loves me." He stood up, prepared to find her. "She loves me! Oh no, she must not know that I read her scroll." He sat back down. "I got it! I'll draw a confession out of her!"

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In the stables, Podrick and Brienne were brushing their horses. "Ser," Podrick began nervously. "There is something I think you should know. . . ." Podrick trailed off and gave an exaggerated sigh.

"What is it?" Brienne asked.

"Well, I don't know if I should be telling you this, but I heard Ser Jaime talking in his room. He said, 'My lady can't know what I feel.'"

Brienne gave a noncommittal shrug. "I'm sure there are many things he doesn't want Cersei to know."

"He doesn't call Cersei 'my lady.'" Podrick tried to keep his voice even.

"Oh, has a lady caught his eye?"

"Um. He also said 'She's a great commander in battle.'" Podrick turned towards his horse, hiding his face.

"Strange. Why would Ser Jaime hide that he feels I'm ugly? He's told me many times before." Brienne thought for a moment. "Maybe he's become respectful now that I'm his commander."

Sweat was beading on Podrick's neck. "He was also humming Jenny's Wedding Ballad."

Brienne's brush stopped mid-stroke. "Oh dear," she said. "Do you suppose he likes me? That complicates matters! How will I let him down without losing my second-in-command?" She thought for a minute. "I know. I'll try to dodge the subject."


	2. Pursuer and Distancer

Morning dawned bright and clear, but tiredness clung to Brienne like a cloak. She trudged tiredly to the great hall and tried to slip in unnoticed. Jaime spotted her right away and practically hurried over. She cursed her height and made a mental note to ask Arya to train her in stealth.

"Good morning, Ser." Lately Jaime had been a little subdued, but today he began with a purpose. "I have been wondering. Could we have a word?" Undeterred by her glare, he chattered on. "What will you do when the war for the throne is over?"

"Continue to serve as Lady Sansa's commander." Brienne answered blandly.

"Have you thought about retiring to Tarth? Settling down with someone?" Jaime leaned forward eagerly.

"No, it never crossed my mind." Hopefully that would put an end to Jaime's questioning. Brienne felt a little sorry as Jaime's expression deflated.

Across the table, Tyrion and Podrick gave each other a glance.

Brienne grasped for a change of subject. "I should be going," she mumbled. "We'll need to practice countering the techniques used by Cersei's queensguard."

Jaime brightened up. "What a good idea! I was commander of the queensguard. I'll come with you and show the troops some techniques!" _And show my sword skills while I'm at it. _"See you on the field!" _This must be her shy way of spending time with me,_ he thought.

Brienne kicked herself under the table.

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Jaime was an excellent teacher. In no time at all, Brienne's recruits had learned to counter several common queensguard's strikes and to disarm their swords. After a while Brienne sat back and watched Jaime teach. He was graceful left-handed, and his hair ruffled when he lunged. She could use a good regular teacher to train the recruits. _And give him more reason to spend time with me?_ She pushed the thought away.

"Good work! Go pack up for the day!" Jaime announced the end of the session. He made his way over to Brienne. "Want to spar with me? I'm better with my left hand now." He flipped his sword in his hand.

"Oh sorry, I have to prepare tomorrow's training," Brienne made an excuse. She hurried away leaving Jaime looking after her, perplexed.

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In the evening, Jaime found Podrick by the stables. "I knew she was guarded, but she practically ran away from me," Jaime ranted. "Can you help me? You know her well. What do I have to do for her to confess her feelings?"

"I don't know." Podrick thought hard. "She spoke fondly of Renly, and she was devastated when he died. He is the only person she ever spoke about having feelings for."

"That gives me an idea," exclaimed Jaime. "Thank you Pod, you've been very helpful."

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Podrick knocked on Brienne's door, feeling perturbed. Did Brienne truly not love Jaime? Had he and Tyrion made a mistake?

"Come in!" Brienne's voice called out.

Podrick entered Brienne's room. "Ser Brienne, if I may ask. Why are you avoiding Ser Jaime? Do you dislike him?"

"Pod, I couldn't be with someone. You know that," Brienne replied.

"Why couldn't you?" Podrick persisted.

"I am not made for marriage. Or love." Brienne almost succeeding in sounding indifferent, but for a tinge of sadness in her voice.

_Oh,_ Podrick thought. _She's guarding her heart, not disparaging Jaime. Time to change my line of questioning._ "Ser, you stayed by Ser Jaime's side during the Battle of Winterfell. You ran to save him from certain death. Why did you protect him?"

A flicker of panic crossed Brienne's face, and she answered without thinking, "There is nothing more hateful than failing to protect. . . ." She trailed off and shook her head. "Good night, Podrick."

"Good night, Ser Brienne." Podrick's expression was even, but he knew how that sentence ended. _Nothing's more hateful than failing to protect the one you love._

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**Author's Notes**

To clarify where everyone stands right now:

Brienne does not realize she is in love with Jaime, for the time being (she behaves as if she is not). She believes that he is in love with her. (This belief is correct.)

Jaime is aware that he is in love with Brienne, and he acts like it too. He believes she loves him too. (This belief is not entirely correct, for now.)

We shall see whether circumstances lead Brienne to uncover her hidden feelings for Jaime. Unearthing those feelings will be a long and challenging journey!


	3. Not Your Mother

The next day, Jaime sat down next to Brienne with a cut on his left wrist and a beseeching expression. He dipped a rag in his water goblet, set it on the table, and awkwardly rolled his cut over it, as Brienne gave him sideways looks.

"Oh stop that!" She finally said, taking the cloth and cleaning the cut for him.

The next day, Brienne found Jaime handling his clippers in his teeth, clipping at his nails. She rolled her eyes, but she did smile to herself before snatching the clippers and sternly finishing the job.

The next day, Jaime dramatically staggered into Brienne's room without knocking and collapsed to the floor in an exaggerated stumble. "Ohhhh I'm dyinggggg!" He wailed. "I've contracted the flu!"

Brienne jumped at the surprise interruption and turned around. Her irritation gave way to concern as she hurried to pull Jaime off the floor. His skin was on fire. "Oh my gods, you're burning up!" She exclaimed as she felt his burning forehead. He sat slumped over with his head bowed, but he raised his big, beseeching eyes to meet hers. She caught herself staring and quickly looked away.

"Don't look like a puppy. Wait here while I get some water," she reprimanded him as she helped him to his room.

For the next week, she brought him cool, wet cloths, warm broth, and wine mixed with water. She fluffed his pillows and mixed honey into wine for his throat. He begged her to stay and talk or play board games, and he peppered her with a thousand questions about her training. He coughed pitifully and asked her to keep talking while he listens.

He caught her sleeve when she tried to leave, and said while looking very earnest, "I feel better with you taking care of me."

She didn't think it strange that he wasn't improving, and she doesn't see him running to the fire to bring up his temperature before her visits.

On the seventh morning, Jaime woke to find Brienne already in his room, looking out the window. She turned when she heard him sitting up, looking oddly cold and murderous.

"Bring me some water?" He asked weakly.

Brienne ignored his request. "I visited you during the night, and you had no fever at all. Care to explain yourself?"

"I. . . ." Jaime was at a loss for words.

Brienne advanced on him, glaring. "How long have you been well and pretending on me?"

Jaime looked down and mumbled, "Three days."

"And how long were you going to keep it up?"

"I just thought you're gentle when you take care of me," Jaime mumbled, still not meeting her eyes. "I'm sorry! I'll make it up to you. I'll polish your armor and wash your hair and bring you breakfast."

"Well, I buckled and tied up all your armor. Securely! Good luck getting it all undone on your own with your one hand," Brienne snapped, and she was out the door with a swish of her cloak.

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Wow, I am back! For a few weeks I was all melancholy from that bizarre, unfeeling way the show ended, and then for weeks after that I didn't know what to do with this chapter. It doesn't feel quite right. I rewrote it from scratch three times, and I'm still unhappy with it. But I have to remember, it doesn't have to be good. Just write, read, and publish. Just get something out, anything.


	4. The Visitor

"One day my lady will live with me in our castle, where the training grounds are fantastic..." Jaime was blathering as usual across the table. Brienne sighed and lowered her teacup.

Poor Ser Jaime, thought Brienne. He seems to really want to be with someone. He must be lonely without Cersei to return to. She idly stirred her porridge.

To her side, Jaime was still talking. "... after weeks of roaming the countryside, bravely defending the innocent, we shall return to Casterly Rock and have supper and wine with Tyrion —"

"What if your lady doesn't wish to live at Casterly Rock?" Brienne interrupted Jaime's musings.

"We could live somewhere else. Me, I like islands. . . ."

She resolved to find him the perfect wife.

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Sansa was sure she had misheard. "You want Ser Jaime to get a life?"

"A wife," Brienne repeated. "He talks about marriage non-stop. My ears ring with his ceaseless chatter. A marriage would provide him comfort, companionship, and a distraction."

So she had not misheard. "And you are asking me to suggest a match for him." She sounded skeptical.

"My lady, he is a good man and an honorable one, from a wealthy and powerful house. I am sure many maidens would be happy to be his betrothed."

"But not you, although you would sing his praises?" Sansa's voice was calm but her eyes were piercing.

"I have soldiers to prepare for battle, my lady. As a commander, I couldn't be someone's wife."

"He spends all day training with you. Maybe his bride would feel slighted."

"Well." Brienne looked down and frowned. "We're all aware of how I, well, you know." She gestured at her tall, sturdy frame. "He may enjoy training with me, but he wouldn't want to wed me." _Nor bed me_, but she kept that thought to herself.

Sansa was giving her a look, but she relented. "Lady Chrystine will be arriving for a visit tomorrow. Perhaps she will make an impression on Ser Jaime."

"Thank you, my lady."

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Lady Chrystine was an elegant, intelligent woman from a house loyal to the Lannisters. She was clever and sharp-tongued, and rumored to be beautiful as the dragon queen. She and Jaime would be well matched.

She arrived the next morning, shimmering astride a gleaming chestnut horse. Her long blonde hair fell in waves down her back, matching the ivory robes shining against the darker fur of her horse. Her long, slender fingers held the reins, rose-painted nails complementing the golden fabric of her dress and the golden tones of her horse. She was tall for a lady, but not as tall as Jaime, lovely and elegant. Her dress fluttered gently around her as she dismounted and offered a graceful hand.

Jaime swept a deep, courtly bow, reached out his golden hand, and kissed the back of her hand. "Pleased to make your acquaintance," he said with a deep voice and a charming smile.

They sat together in the dining hall, Jaime talking smoothly and Chrystine laughing, a clear and bubbling sound. He presented her with a bouquet of pink chrysanthemums and yellow sunflowers, and she presented him with an intricately-embroidered pair of gloves. She was sharp and intelligent as well, discussing trade and alliances with Sansa. She would be well-suited for leading and managing a house.

She watched as he trained, gushing and calling encouragements. She tripped daintily over a cobblestone, somehow looking graceful even as Jaime caught her on his arm. She beamed up at him and thanked him prettily. Brienne watched them walking through the courtyard and into the distance, looking like a painting of a handsome knight and a beautiful maiden. They looked so _golden_ together. She felt unexpectedly grim.

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"Ser Brienne! Will you do me a favor?" Brienne looked up to see Jaime approaching her with a rolled scroll in his hand and a gleam in his eye. "Would you be so kind as to deliver this to Lady Chrystine?"

"Of course," Brienne answered, ignoring the cold feeling in her gut.

"Thanks!" Jaime grinned back at her and walked away.

Brienne trudged to Chrystine's room with her boots feeling oddly heavy. She knocked on Chrystine's door. "Come in!" Chrystine called.

Brienne opened the door slowly and held out the scroll. "Ser Jaime sends you this."

"Thank you." Chrystine looked nervous as she unrolled the scroll and began reading, then her face broke into a bright, beautiful smile. "Give me just a moment and I'll write a reply," she said. She rummaged through the room's desk and brought out paper and a quill, and quickly wrote a reply. She held it up to the candle to dry it, then rolled it neatly and handed it to Brienne. "Would you please bring him my answer?"

Brienne swallowed. "Of course," she said.

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Jaime looked equally happy at Chrystine's response. "That's a bit unexpected, but it's fantastic!" He gushed.

"Well, I'm happy for you both. You're an excellent match for each other." Brienne tried to sound enthusiastic.

Jaime's smile faltered. "What are you talking about? Didn't you read the scroll I gave you?"

"No, why would I do that?"

"I meant for you to see it! I didn't even seal it," Jaime protested. "You could have easily unrolled it and rolled it back up!"

"That's not honorable," Brienne stated flatly. "You know I would never."

Of course she wouldn't. Jaime rolled his eyes. "Well, if you had _read_ it, you'd see that I apologized to Chrystine. She may have come looking for a marriage, but I couldn't offer that to her."

_What? _Brienne opened her mouth, and then closed it. She thought for a moment and tried again. "But, I don't understand. She's beautiful and looks beautiful beside you. She's great at sewing. She's smart and educated and would make a great Lady of a house."

"But she can't _swordfight_," Jaime said indignantly. "Besides, I'm not going to be Lord of any house, so why would she need to be good at being a Lady?"

"You're. . . not? But you said you wanted to live at Casterly Rock."

"With Tyrion, who will be Lord," Jaime said. "How can I be the Lord if I'm off on adventures all the time?"

"Oh," said Brienne. "But then, why did she look so happy when she read your scroll?"

Jaime tossed Chrystine's reply on to his desk and motioned for her to sit down. "Here, read it and see."

_Dear Ser Jaime, I am very much relieved to hear your intentions. I was worried to disappoint you as well, for the truth is, I have fallen in love with Kynneth, and the reason for my visit today and in the past was to see him. I had a lovely time today and am eager for us to become great friends. Yours, Chrystine._

Kynneth was the name of Winterfell's cook.

"Oh," was all Brienne could think to say.

"Besides," Jaime added. "I don't want to kiss her." He raised his arm against he wall and leaned casually against it, lounging over the desk. The shape of his chest was visible under his thin shirt, and the candlelight gleamed off his arm muscles.

He was looking at her intensely and standing so close she could _smell_ him. She shot up, making the chair fall back. She hastily stood it upright and backed out of the room, babbling, "Well I'm glad it worked out for you both have a good night Ser Jaime." She slammed the door behind her and took off down the hall, as quickly as her long strides could carry her without running. Her heart hammered in her chest.

"Good night, Ser Brienne," she heard floating from Jaime's room.

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**Author's Notes**

Chrystine and Kynneth are based on Chrys and Kin-chan from Itazura na Kiss.


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